


The Intermediary Council

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:09:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7410655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minerva extends an invitation to Hermione to join the Moste Honorable and Olde Intermediary Council.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Miss Granger, how lovely to see you, dear,” Minerva McGonagall greeted Hermione as she entered the Hogwarts Headmistress’ office. It felt wonderful but strange to walk the corridors of the school during summer holidays, not to mention, as a graduate rather than as a student. It was hard to believe that two years had already passed since the fall of Voldemort. The school bore proud scars of that battle and Hermione noted shrines to those that had fallen.

 

Blue sky shimmered through numerous open windows. Minerva kept the office open and airy; quite a nice difference from Albus Dumbledore. “Headmistress,” Hermione replied, happy to see the woman that had become a second mother to her. She relished the older witches’ hug and followed her into a cozy room that was set with tea.

 

“Did I hear correctly that you’ve taken a job with the Ministry?”

 

Hermione nodded, “Department of Mysteries…”

 

“I’m surprised you agreed to work for the Ministry,” Minerva hedged.

 

“Yes,” Hermione shrugged. “They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Although I’m open to other possibilities…”

 

Minerva shot Hermione a look over her teacup, “I did not know that you had any interest in teaching children.”

 

“Oh,” Hermione replied, pink darkening her cheeks. “I assumed you asked me here to offer me a job,” she admitted with a grin.

 

Minerva smiled, “I invited you here for a visit… And to extend to you an invitation to the Intermediary Council.”

 

“Intermediary Council?” Hermione repeated, eyes alight with attention. She had a fervent desire to join any sort of governing body, a long-held wish to advise great leaders. “They do some sort of negotiating?”

 

Minerva set aside her tea and folded her hands on her lap. Hermione wondered what she was preparing herself for.

 

“Miss Granger, Hermione, try to keep an open mind about what I am about to tell you.”

 

For some reason, the tiny hairs on Hermione’s neck stood up. What, in Merlin’s name, was her dear idol to reveal?

 

“The Intermediary Council is one of the oldest, most respected, and most important organizations functioning outside of the Ministry.”

 

“The Ministry does not regulate this council?” Hermione clarified, tea forgotten in her hand.

 

“No, they keep away from the matters handled by the Intermediary Council. I’ve allowed them the use of the Great Hall for their next meeting – it is in just an hour. Will you join us and see for yourself, if you agree with the Council’s vision?”

 

Hermione was aware that Minerva was purposefully being vague but she was a trusted friend and Hermione had no wish to bully information out of her. What on earth would the Ministry allow to be governed outside of their control? It was either trivial or scandalous; either way, Hermione’s curiosity was piqued.

 

“I’m honored,” Hermione replied. She cast a warming charm on her tea and attempted to make small talk but half of her attention was on imagining the possible topics the Intermediary Council would discuss. An hour passed quickly while they caught-up.

 

Minerva and Hermione walked together down the stairs to the Great Hall. It was odd to see the Hall in another order than for school meals. Tables had been pushed together down the middle to form a more intimate meeting area that would accommodate around thirty bodies. Minerva gestured for Hermione to sit beside her and the Council members began to arrive. Thirteen wizards and eleven witches joined them. Hermione recognized only a handful, including Fleur Weasley and Pansy Potter. They greeted her with warm hugs but quickly took places at the table.

 

“Good evening and thank you, everyone, for making the time to be here. As you can see by the number of empty chairs, we need to replace a few of our members. I took the liberty of inviting Hermione Granger.” Polite applause and some speculative murmurs answered Minerva’s welcome.

 

“I have several wizards’ applications, Minerva,” spoke a grizzled, bespectacled wizard across the table.

 

“Let’s not stand on ceremony,” Minerva replied.

                                                                                 

Hermione listened in quiet, growing confusion as applications were reviewed. No names were read, just oddly-personal details. Were these applications for Council appointments?

 

“And, finally, one of our absent members is recently widowed and seeks a wife. He is of impeccable lineage, wealthy, and ready to love again… One grown son.”

 

Hermione’s mind circled the phrases ‘seeks a wife’ and ‘ready to love again.’ Did this Council seek wives for wizards?

 

“No witches’ applications have come in since our last meeting,” Pansy added.

 

And husbands for witches? Ah, the ‘Intermediary Council.’ The name made sense. They negotiated, all right. They negotiated matches. And Minerva thought Hermione would be a good fit? As a member of the Council or a potential wife? Unnerved, Hermione waited in suspicious silence until the meeting closed.

 

As if sensing Hermione’s disquiet, Minerva swiftly moved for the door and chatted with a group of witches on their way out. Another witch took Minerva’s chair and Hermione grinned to see Pansy.

 

The witches shared another warm hug and Hermione was distracted from her unease by the other witch’s emphasized rubbing of her abdomen.

 

“You’re expecting! That’s lovely! Congratulations, Pansy! Harry must be ecstatic.”

 

Pansy nodded but her expression was quite serious; “You look concerned. Minerva didn’t tell you much about the Council, did she?”

 

“No, and I’m not sure why she thought I would be interested,” Hermione replied baldly.

 

Pansy tapped her wand on the tabletop and a plate of finger foods appeared. With restrained hunger, she delicately ate.

 

“Since wizards and witches began marrying Muggles, our numbers have dwindled. Since the war, our numbers are even less. Our generation is particularly stubborn, Hermione. We are not procreating and the future of our race depends upon us.”

 

“The Intermediary Council monitors birth numbers?”

 

“Not always but the Council has evolved with need,” Pansy wiped her fingertips on her napkin. “Traditionally, the Council arranged marriages. Today, it’s akin to a singles’ network.”

 

“You make matches,” Hermione clarified.

 

“For the moment. There are a handful of us that wish to bring about legislative change to the Ministry.”

 

Surprised and then wary, Hermione asked, “What sort of change?” Legislative change regarding marriage with Muggles?

 

“Don’t look so righteous! Something that _encourages_ marriage,” Pansy bit. “McGonagall would never have invited you if she thought you would disapprove.”

 

She was right. Minerva wouldn’t have wasted her time. Hermione was mollified. She stole a crisp off Pansy’s plate. “I was invited to sit on the Council.”

 

“Of course, one must set an example,” Pansy added slyly. Hermione threw a crisp at her and the brunette burst into laughter. “It wouldn’t hurt to apply for a husband and see who they come up with.”

 

Hermione stared at Pansy until the brunette shrugged. “If you want a long-term spot in their ranks, it will be expected.”

 

She was serious. Hermione frowned. “There is no commitment? It’s just an application?”

 

Pansy fought a grin. “It’s all voluntary.” She conjured a scroll and set it in front of Hermione, along with a quill and ink pot.

 

In the back of her mind, Hermione noted that Pansy was quite prepared to enroll Hermione in the application process. After checking for magic and hidden print, she filled out the form.

 

“Hermione, I’m happy to see that you’re applying,” Minerva gushed, sounding surprised.

 

“Pansy assured me that applying for a husband is not binding.”

 

Minerva pursed her lips. “If you have no interest in a husband, don’t waste the Council’s time. It’s insulting.”

 

Hermione blinked. “I would like to be married someday,” she answered honestly.

 

The older witch’s ire faded. “If you submit that scroll, I expect you to take the Council’s recommendation seriously.”

 

Hermione noted the glance exchanged between Pansy and Minerva. Were they planning something? Was there a wizard they had in mind? Suddenly, Hermione felt a zip of excitement. It would be lovely to find someone compatible. She hadn’t been successful in finding anyone on her own; perhaps the Council was the right way to go. She signed the parchment and handed it to Minerva.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione did not often look in the mirror. She was not overly impressed with the woman that looked back. Her hair got frizzy when it rained and her eyes were boring brown. Tonight, the mirror oohed at her eyeliner and complimented her lip gloss. Tonight, Hermione thought her hair curled in an attractive style and her eyes had specks of gold in the drab brown. She felt almost pretty. At the Council meeting held earlier, she’d been paired with a wizard and they were to meet in just under an hour.

 

As a new addition to the Intermediary Council, Hermione would apprentice for one year before participating in making matches. She had been forced to listen silently as the wizards dissected her application (not knowing it was hers) and deliberated on the most suitable wizard. Hermione caught herself blushing to hear herself discussed. A furious blush rose in her cheeks as she recalled Pansy’s comments after the wizard had been decided.

 

Pansy claimed to know the wizard’s identity even though there were no names on the scrolls. “You lucky cow. He’s legendary in bed and the size of his knob is like this,” she’d fisted her hand and gestured at her arm. Hermione had shushed her but in the freedom of her quiet flat, she giggled.

 

At the restaurant, Hermione sat at a table by the window. She’d taken the side that gave her a clear view of the door. Her insides were aflutter and she felt like a hormonal teen. She knew it was ridiculous but couldn’t help it and allowed herself to feel as silly as she liked on the inside. On the outside, she appeared quite calm.

 

The wizard that entered the Silver Sword, upon reflection, was precisely the wizard that had been described by his application but not whom Hermione would have guessed if she had spent her lifetime trying. When Lucius Malfoy met her gaze and began walking towards her, she felt her heart sink into her stomach. The aging bigot of a wizard had applied for a new wife?

 

“You want more children at your age?” Hermione asked without thinking, her disappointment momentarily overrunning her rationale.

 

The wizard pointedly did not sit but remained standing beside her table.

 

“You want children? No _book_ will ever prepare you to be a mother,” he replied coldly.

 

“I forgot that you’re _experienced_. And you’ve been such a superb role model!” Hermione exclaimed, prepared to fight him, quip for barbed quip.

 

“How dare you,” Lucius hissed.

 

Hermione laughed as he turned and left. In her mind, she noted that his final comment had not been a dramatic exit but full of true outrage. As she gathered her coat, Hermione wondered if she hadn’t just made a sizable mistake. What on earth had the Council been thinking?

 

~*~

 

The next morning found Hermione carefully dressed and somber. She had been unable to sleep for guilt at having greeted the wizard so callously. He had hoped to make a connection and had been laughed at instead. Hermione felt obliged to pay Lucius Malfoy a visit and offer him an apology.

 

A house-elf opened the door of Malfoy Manor when Hermione knocked and a ghost led her to a parlor to wait.

 

“Hallo, new Mummy!”

 

Hermione jumped in surprise. Draco was in the doorway, hanging on its frame by his arms like a little kid.

 

“Draco,” she replied, scowling at his welcome. Apparently, his father had shared the debacle with him.

 

“You’re not going to cause trouble, are you?” he asked with a mock-fierce glare. Was he teasing her?

 

“I’ve come to apologize, actually,” Hermione admitted.

 

“Bloody Gryffindors,” he muttered, leaving without another word.

 

Unsettled, Hermione frowned at the crackling fire. She’d rather forgotten the relationship between Draco and Lucius. Rather, she hadn’t given thought to the idea of Draco being around.

 

“What brings you to my home, Ms. Granger?”

 

Hermione mentally cursed as she jumped a second time. She needed to pay more attention to the doorway. She got to her feet when it became clear that Lucius had no intention of sitting with her.

 

“Do you believe in the mission of the Intermediary Council?” she asked without preamble.

 

“Do you?” he countered, idly examining his hand.

 

Hermione pursed her lips. She supposed she deserved that. She had been quite unpleasant the day before. “That is why I am here. I owe you an apology.”

 

Lucius lifted his brows and moved past Hermione for the crystal decanters decoratively occupying the windowsill. As he set aside the snake-headed cane that Hermione knew to house his wand and poured himself a drink, she caught herself wondering if his shoulders had always been that broad and if he always smelled like menthe.

 

The wizard’s brief expression of bliss as he swallowed a deep sip of scotch inspired a stab of desire n Hermione. The witch wondered if she wasn’t a little out of her element with the older man. Pansy’s inappropriate comments burst to the front of Hermione’s mind and she grew warm. She wished Lucius had offered her a drink as her skin prickled in arousal. Hermione could not deny that she found the wizard attractive.

 

“There must be some reason they put us together,” she said, speaking her thought.

 

“I bribed them to match me with the next witch,” Lucius replied, gaze unrepentant.

 

“Oh,” Hermione breathed. Pink colored her cheeks. She had been sitting there, half-convinced that a physical relationship with him was possible. “I’ll be on my way, then.” She heard the house-elf tripping after her down the corridor but fled without a backwards glance.

 

~*~

 

“He didn’t bribe the Council,” Pansy replied, taking her attention away from the stove for a moment. Hermione gasped as a blue tentacle reached out of the boiling pot. Pansy spun and zapped the wandering limb with her wand.

 

“How can you be certain?” Hermione asked, feeling queasy. She’d kiss a blast-ended skrewt before she’d eat whatever was in that pot.

 

“The application you signed was charmed to indicate if you did something like that. He lied to you,” Pansy muttered, peering into the oven. Black smoke leaked out. Hermione managed to keep a straight face as Pansy tapped her wand as if considering how to best repair the food that had caught fire in the oven.

 

“Why would he lie?” Hermione asked, dumbfounded.

 

“He’s probably scared,” Pansy answered, glancing warily the ceiling of thickening smoke. “Harry!” she hollered.

 

Harry looked up from the table where he was surrounded by scrolls. He flicked his wand a few times; the smoke cleared, the tentacle slipped back into the pot and when Pansy opened the oven, a wonderful smell wafted out. Apparently, Pansy’s cooking adventures in the kitchen were normal.

 

“Why were we matched?” Hermione couldn’t help but ask.

 

As she directed helpings of her creations onto plates, Pansy answered matter-of-factly. “To begin with, you’re both scary intelligent and similarly vindictive.”

 

Pansy levitated the plates to the dining table, sweeping it clear of Harry’s scrolls. “Something not on his application is that he regrets his Death Eater activities. He joined up to impress his wife’s family. He’s a romantic, Hermione. Just like you.”

 

Hermione made a face at her friend but she couldn’t move yet. Her legs had gone numb. Lucius Malfoy was a romantic? And he regretted following Voldemort?

 

“I don’t think he’s interested in me,” Hermione said, finally able to join the Potters at their dinner table.

 

“It sounds like your first meeting couldn’t have gone worse,” Harry offered.

 

“Thanks, Harry. That’s helpful,” Hermione bit.

 

“She likes him! I knew you would,” Pansy sang, spooning a helping of _something_ onto Hermione’s plate.

 

“I haven’t been given the opportunity to get to know him.”

 

“You’re attracted to him,” Pansy countered as if determined to get Hermione to admit her attraction.

 

Hermione’s cheeks felt hot. “Well, who wouldn’t be?”

 

“Me,” chorused Harry and Pansy.

 

“Ah, yes. You happily married prats.”

 

With a mischievous grin, Pansy announced, “Everything I told you earlier – quite true. The size of his-”

 

“Bank vault!” Hermione interrupted.

 

Harry ignored the witches’ teasing and scrutinized Hermione. “Lucius Malfoy? Really?”

 

Hermione shrugged and pushed the unidentified meal around her plate.

 

“Actually, I can kind of see it,” he muttered.

 

Hermione blinked at Harry and it was his turn to shrug. “He lied to get rid of me,” she pointed out.

 

Later that night, while Hermione was slipping into bed, an owl pecked at her window.

 

“It’s a bit late for post,” she greeted as she opened the window.

 

The large eagle owl soared majestically into the room to perch on her bedpost. Hermione remembered that eagle owls were the preferred messengers of the Malfoys.  She untied a pristine white scroll with silver-gilt edges from the bird, wondering why Lucius would have sent her anything.

 

_“Granger,_

_Personally, I think any witch interested in my father should get a one-way broom ride into St. Mungo’s. That said, I ask that you give him a chance. He lied to you (yes, I heard it all) today. After listening to my father exhaust his extensive collection of colorful adjectives about the Intermediary Council’s recommendation (you), I asked him very simply ‘why not Granger?’ and he couldn’t come up with a single reason. He deserves someone good, someone like you, in his life. You cannot imagine what he has suffered. I daresay he has paid his dues._

_If you have the smallest curiosity at all for my father, he will be at the Queen’s Wand at seven o’clock tomorrow evening._

_-D”_

 


	3. Chapter 3

Just before seven o’clock, Draco joined Hermione’s table in the Queen’s Wand Pub. He carried two glasses of wine and set one in front of her. Hermione wasn’t sure if she was relieved or upset that he was alone.

 

“Thank you,” he said.

 

Hermione shrugged. She felt that she owed it to herself and Lucius the opportunity to meet once more. “I’m impressed by how deeply you care for your father.”

 

Draco gazed at her with none of the loathing she recalled from their school days. “It may surprise you to learn that he is a good father.”

 

They both sipped their wine.

 

“He protected me as best he could,” Draco added, appearing lost in memory as he stared sightlessly at his glass.

 

“And you think I’m a good match for him?” Hermione asked, drawing him back to the present.

 

Draco lifted his brows and carefully replied, “I think there is the potential for him to be happy with you.”

 

“Is he unhappy?” Hermione was finding Draco shockingly easy to talk to. He was not the boy he had been.

 

“He misses her,” Draco said, voice thick. “And, incidentally, he’d gut me for telling you any of this.”

 

“Maim, perhaps. Not gut,” Lucius smoothly interrupted.

 

Hermione felt guilty to be caught talking about him. Her face felt hot as Draco excused himself. For his part, Draco didn’t appear at all concerned to be caught gossiping.

 

As Lucius slid into the booth that Draco vacated, Hermione sensed the energy at the table change. The wizard’s presence still intimidated her.

 

“It would seem that I now owe you an apology,” Lucius drawled, fidgeting with his glass in much the same way Draco had done. Hermione grinned inside to note the similarity.

 

“It is of no consequence,” Hermione answered quietly.

 

“Isn’t it?” he asked, pinning her with his pale gaze.

 

“Actually… yes, it is,” she confessed. She should be candid if she hoped to build anything with the man. And there was the fact that he knew she was lying and called her on it.

 

“Please accept my apology. I lied to you,” he said.

 

“You owe me nothing.”

 

“Perhaps,” was Lucius’ enigmatic response as he sipped his gold-colored drink.

 

Hermione swirled her wine and gave him a small grin. “I don’t suppose we could start again?”

 

“We are shaped by our pasts. I would not presume to be other than the wizard you see before you.”

 

Hermione’s lips went thin. She was attempting to make amends and it appeared that Lucius wished to maintain a distance between them.

 

“Have no illusions, Ms. Granger. People do not change,” he added.

 

“If that’s how you really feel, _Mr. Malfoy_ , what the hell are you doing here?” Lucius narrowed his eyes at her and Hermione realized that she was behaving no better than him.

 

“What are _you_ doing here?” he countered. 

 

Hermione gave a mental sigh and made the decision to take a chance. She would extend the proverbial olive branch. She looked Lucius straight in the eye. “I see that Draco cares deeply about you and a respected group of witches and wizards believe us to be compatible. I don’t know you at all but I would like to.”

 

Lucius leaned back, watching Hermione thoughtfully. She had caught him off his guard.

 

“The difference in our ages is rather significant,” he finally stated.

 

“Is _that_ troubling you?” Hermione asked, astounded that he was preoccupied with something so trivial.

 

“Is something else troubling you?” he drawled.

 

“Do you mind that I’m Muggle-born?” she asked, almost defensive.

 

“No. Do you mind that I’m the father of your classmate?”

 

“Not in the least.”

 

Hermione traded speculative glances with Lucius. He felt insecure about her youth, of all things! Something between them changed. Hermione felt as if a sizable hole had just opened in the wall between them.

 

Lucius leaned conspiratorially towards her, “I suggest we have a few more drinks.”

 

A smile curled Hermione’s mouth, “Agreed.”

 

“I rather prefer the privacy of my own home,” Lucius confessed, standing and offering Hermione his arm.

 

“Alright,” she answered, feeling warm. Hermione’s skin prickled with awareness as she took the wizard’s arm and he led her to the designated Apparition point in the pub.

 

Side-Along Apparition felt downright intimate and Hermione couldn’t look at Lucius for a couple of minutes after their arrival in the garden of Malfoy Manor. She shivered in the sudden cold. No sooner did she rub her arms than she felt a cloak settle on her shoulders. The fabric was heavy and warm and smelled like him. Hermione melted a little. She could get used to having someone so chivalrous around.

 

The manor was impressive in the moonlight. It was a tall, solemn building.

 

“May I have a tour?” Hermione asked, finally glancing at her companion. Lucius was equally impressive in the moonlight. His pale visage made him almost ghostly.

 

“If you like,” he agreed, escorting Hermione towards the door.

 

Lucius set his cloak unceremoniously on a table beside the door and led Hermione to an office where he poured each of them generous drinks. A welcoming fire burned in the room’s grate and Hermione thought it would be a nice room to return to for conversation after her tour.

 

“Let’s begin with the east wing,” Lucius suggested, directing Hermione to her left.

 

The ground floor held more parlors where a young Draco had gotten into all sorts of trouble. Lucius shared stories such as Draco setting the curtains on fire and turning his mum’s hair purple.  The second floor held several guest rooms as well as Draco’s bedroom. When Hermione enquired about the third floor, Lucius gave a small smile.

 

“You wish to examine my bedroom?” he asked suggestively.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Hermione answered, blushing. She sipped from her glass, noting that it was almost empty. She was unprepared for flirtation. It was a practice that she rarely experienced.

 

“Why don’t I show you the library, instead?” Lucius smoothly offered.

 

The library lay in a tower. Moonlight trickled into the space through skylight windows in the spire. Books seemed to spiral endlessly into the sky. Hermione felt Lucius’ hand on the small of her back as she rocked, looking up.

 

“Which have you read?” Hermione asked, teasing.

 

“All of them,” Lucius replied smugly.

 

“All?” she repeated, astonished.

 

“There was a time my eyes lit as yours do about books.”

 

The fondness in his voice was not lost on Hermione. “What lights your eyes now?” she asked shyly.

 

“I’m not certain anymore,” Lucius said slowly. There was sorrow in him.

 

“Maybe I could help you find whatever it is,” Hermione offered sincerely. The hand on her back moved in a circular caress.

 

“I’m beginning to think that you might,” he replied.

 

Hermione’s heart fluttered suddenly. She managed her ridiculousness by tossing back the last contents of her glass. She moved out of Lucius’ reach under the pretense of setting down her cup.

 

“What is it you’re looking for in a wife? Besides having more children?” she probed.

 

“To love and be loved.”

 

His answer was so simple and heartfelt that Hermione suddenly felt as though she did not know Lucius in the slightest. Looking at the wizard, she saw only a shadow of the man she remembered from her childhood. He was still self-confident… But there was so much more to him.

 

“Not someone to cook your meals and mend your robes?” she asked.

 

“That’s what wands and house-elves are for,” Lucius answered, amusement evident in his tone and expression.

 

“I may be a bit drunk,” Hermione grinned. She shook her head helplessly.

 

“Allow me to show you the kitchen,” Lucius replied, expression still amused.

 

The wizard escorted Hermione with one hand on her hip. She felt electrified. Her body was exquisitely aware of him.

 

They were in the kitchen when he kissed her. The icebox was open, its dim light the only thing illuminating them. They were snacking out of it like children, taking pinches of bread and swiping their fingers through pudding. Without warning, Hermione felt him move near and then his lips were against hers. The chill of the icebox fell away as he gathered her close.

 

“Shall we continue to test our compatibility?”

 

Lucius was giving Hermione the opportunity to stop. Then, one of his hands slid down over her hip to cup her buttocks and the other flowed up her ribs so that his thumb just caressed the underside of her breast. Fire zipped through her veins and she gasped, utterly at his mercy.

 

“I think that would be wise,” she whispered.

 

“The last stop on today’s tour will be my bedroom,” he murmured into her neck.


	4. Epilogue

Hermione looked at the faces of the witches, wondering if she had looked as young when she graduated from Hogwarts.  

 

“Thank you for your time, ladies,” she began. “My name is Hermione Malfoy and I am a new member of the Intermediary Council. Headmistress McGonagall was kind enough to allow me your time,” Hermione used her wand to flick a loud snapping sound and regain the attention to a group of Ravenclaw girls in the corner.

 

“Our population is in danger. Fewer witches and wizards are born every year. If not for the Intermediary Council, there would be at least one less this year.” Hermione rubbed her swollen belly with emphasis.

 

“I do not believe in romantic love. I do not believe that there is only one wizard meant for one witch. But the Intermediary Council managed to find me someone that has become my best friend and we are deeply in love.”

 

Hermione ignored the giggles.

 

“We are expecting our second child in about a month. Once you have found your way and settled into your life, if you are alone or unhappy, please consider applying to the Intermediary Council for a match. The results speak for themselves.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published: Dec 22, 2012


End file.
